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A GIRL'S LIFE - PART 2I Turned Normal for a WeekDay One I woke up, spent two hours getting prepped, and jetted off to Country Club Plaza to shop at all the fancy places with “sales associates” who wait outside the dressing room for you and try to comment overdramatically about how great everything looks (even though I could feel their eyes rolling when I walked in like, “Does she really think our stuff will fit her?”). As far as the crazy, obviously-working-on-commission attitude goes, I don’t know if it’s the non-normal part of me or the midwestern part of me, but I can’t stand it when they follow you around like that. It made me completely nervous and grossed out about everything I was trying on. Are normal girls cool with it? I figured yes, so I acted like I loved it while trying on ugly dresses that cost more than my rent. I also had to look for some seriously boring day-to-day attire—something in shades of cream and beige and fawn and mushroom and taupe so I could blend in. See me over there on the other page? You can’t even find me, can you? Next I headed to Bijin Salon in the suburbs. I was really nervous about having to make gross conversation about split ends or how it’s cute that I’m a photographer. But as I arrived, the soothing scents, trippy art, and dim lighting calmed my nerves. I was in to it. I got my hair “layered.” They told me it would make my face look thinner and my neck longer. I also got “bangs” because they are “in” but they consisted of three uneven wisps that just looked like an accident, even though I told the stylist I liked it. (I was being served free wine, after all.)  Then I entered a long, dark hallway with “Sssh” signs everywhere, which was where the pedicures and massages take place. Even though the pedicure lady’s voice sounded sweet when she was hovering over my toes, I swear every time I looked up from my In Style magazine and caught a glimpse, I was being given the snake eyes. Next up was my eyebrow-grooming session. I had never plucked my eyebrows before, but I’d always been interested. The general consensus has been that I have full, nice brows. I was happy with that, but since the opportunity came around, I said, “What the hay!” (I should also tell you I’m originally from Wisconsin.) So I got it done, even though the eyebrow-technician lady was into my eyebrows and nearly refused to wax them. But she did, and they did look better. I started to realize at this point that I’d been unconsciously basing my look on my little sister, who is my closest connection to “normal.” She lives in Milwaukee and does office jobs and bartends at night. Whenever I visit home for Christmas everyone thinks she’s older, but really I’m four years her senior. And I don’t take it as a compliment. I know I only look younger because chubby short girls remind people of babies. Oh well. Day Two Today was a holiday, and I got ready in the morning to dress appropriately normal to visit the home of my friends’ family. I tried on several outfits and spent time drying my hair in curls to give it a “wave.” This did nothing but I acted like it did. Then I headed off for Thanksgiving dinner. I entered the sparse, clean home and was incredibly kind and cordial and polite. I even asked to say grace before the meal just to really fuck with them. (I don’t think you have to say grace when you’re eating off of plastic plates, do you?) I hung out mostly with the host’s four-year-old daughter, which I think probably made me seem really creepy. We dressed Polly Pockets for over two hours. Have you ever done that? It’s really fun. We “giggled” and I took lots of pictures of her making funny faces. JAIMIE WARREN
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